


Voices Carry

by tolakasa



Series: This Christmas Day 'verse [14]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Family, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-21
Updated: 2017-09-21
Packaged: 2019-01-03 21:03:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12154761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tolakasa/pseuds/tolakasa
Summary: It was a perfectly peaceful Sunday until somebody decided to piss off Hannah.





	Voices Carry

Sam slipped out of the post-Mass crowd into the shelter of a marble-look pillar— No, wait, that might be actual marble. How much money had the Reynoldses had put into this church? Not all of them came to this parish, and it wasn't exactly a poor area to begin with, but they were clearly among the wealthiest families, if not at the top of the list. And despite the traditional floor plan rather than a more modern fan-shaped sanctuary, this church wasn't that old, not more than ten years. It _wasn't_ the same church where Dean and Marcy had gotten married, which meant it probably hadn't been around then.

_Anne probably bulldozed the building committee._

He suspected the very large vestibule—almost large enough to hold a service out here, if necessary—was a nod to the modernists, a buffer zone between the front doors and the sanctuary that allowed the congregation to mingle and chitchat before and after services without disturbing anybody who wanted to pray or do an hour of adoration. Most of the votive stands were out here, too, lining one wall; the extra space allowed for actual statues rather than pictures. And they still used real candles, not electric ones, lending the air the sharp scent of smoke from extinguished matches. The other wall, on the other side of the crowd, had a life-sized statue of the Holy Family. At the moment, several teens were selling fundraiser doughnuts and coffee on one side of the statue, and the Knights of Columbus were trying to get people to sign up for something on the other.

The doughnuts were tempting—for an additional ten cents, the enterprising teenagers would microwave them, and to say that the place smelled heavenly was putting it mildly—but Sam knew better than to give in. Once the family pictures were finished, they were all caravanning back to the house, where the usual Sunday dinner was going to be expanded into Ananda and Kara's adoption party. No mere doughnut could hold up to _those_ goodies. Winchester adoption parties rivaled Thanksgiving _and_ Christmas in terms of feasting.

Sam had been banished out here hiding because of Ananda, of course. Being ineligible to be a godparent was all that had gotten him out of a role in the ceremony itself, but just in case that wasn't enough to satisfy Ananda, he'd been handed an actual video camera in addition to Marcy's camera and told to record. Ananda had still insisted on sitting in his lap through the rest of the Mass. A well-timed request by Dean, with Sam escaping to the vestibule while she was distracted, was the only way that they were going to get any pictures without him.

He leaned against the pillar and went through the pre-Mass snapshots, deleting a few obvious bad stills—oh, that was a good one, even though he didn't remember taking it; Dean and Marcy, Ananda and Kara, none of them actually looking at the camera. Kara was in Dean's lap, holding one shiny patent leather shoe while Dean tried to get the other one refastened, and Marcy was re-buttoning the top button of Ananda's dress. Kara was looking up at Dean, Dean was glancing over at Marcy and laughing, Marcy had her attention on Ananda, and Ananda was looking...at something else, way off in the nonexistent distance, the way she did. Some scrap of vision, maybe. They really needed to figure out exactly what her ability was—

"I don't know why they had to hijack an entire Mass for their baptism."

Sam's head jerked up. Two elderly ladies—one colorblind, from the pink-and-chartreuse sweater—were approaching the line of votive stands on this wall.

"I know," said the other one, in a purple sweater with some kind of fur trim. In North Carolina. Sure, it was _technically_ winter, but it was sixty degrees outside, and close to eighty in here. "Honestly, it's bad enough when they do it for _their_ babies, but for those foster brats?"

Sam's jaw dropped. Clearly they hadn't seen him, or they wouldn't be saying it where he could hear, but what kind of person even _said_ that? Especially a woman who, as a Catholic, believed that baptism was the way to heaven?

Besides, they hadn't wanted to "hijack Mass," but Marcy _had_ wanted Uncle Paul to do it. This was the only weekend he had available before summer, and there were already events scheduled in the sanctuary this afternoon.

"I mean, what kind of life is that little colored girl even going to _have?_ " Purple lit a candle—in front of _Mother Teresa_ , for fuck's sake, a patron of _orphans_ —and stuffed a dollar into the offering slot. "Pretending she's Anne's granddaughter?"

"And you just know she's damaged somehow," Colorblind said. "They always are. Even ones that little."

"Probably a crack baby. Trash, whatever she is."

_What the fuck?_ Sam was so stunned by the nonsense these two were spewing that he just stood there. How could they hate a little kid like that? A little kid they didn't even _know?_ Kara was a handful, sure, but dismissing her as _trash?_ For no reason other than she was black and had been in the foster system?

"That other one's just weird," Purple was going on. It took a second for Sam to realize she meant Ananda. "That child is just a freak. Have you heard her story?" Colorblind didn't have a chance to answer before Purple charged on. "Her parents were murdered, and she and her brother were left alone, but someone adopted him a long time ago. She was a newborn, and _nobody_ wanted her. Something is _wrong_ with her."

"Well, no wonder Marcy took her in," Colorblind sneered. "No decent woman would marry a cripple and then whine that she can't have children. I wonder how much money they paid to get an exception for _that_."

"For what? Sterility?"

"No, for—" she made a show of lowering her voice "— _impotence_. You know a marriage isn't valid if you can't—you know."

Sam almost choked, and the resulting struggle for air was his only excuse for not confronting the two old biddies. _Impotence?_ Obviously these two had never actually met Dean. Dean could size up somebody making _that_ assumption in a split second, and he took an unholy joy in correcting it, usually in the most vulgar terms available.

"Good thing she's rich," Purple sniffed. "Lazy bum doesn't _do_ anything."

"Well, he _is_ in a wheelchair—"

"So's that idiot brother, and he at least _pretends_ to work."

Sam blinked. Did she just call Firth an idiot? _Firth?_ Firth was probably the smartest of all the Reynoldses. Hell, Firth had taught Dean a few things about hiding weapons in wheelchairs.

Purple was really getting going now. "Okay, so the boy only has a job because Third's a soft-hearted moron. But really, it's not like they didn't have the money to put him in a proper institution. In _my_ day, nobody would _dream_ of letting defectives run around loose like that and taking in trash kids! And letting Marcy's crippled little man—" This time, Sam _did_ choke. "—play at raising the kids like _she_ should be doing, since _she's_ supposed to be their mother! Every last one of them's going to turn into a serial killer, you know, but because they've got so much money, nobody will call them—"

" _Hey!_ "

The voice, sharp and angry and loud, made painful echoes in the high-ceilinged room despite the throng of people, and the whole crowd went suddenly quiet. Then they parted like Moses was coming through—only it was Hannah standing there, murder in her eyes.

And the target? The two old bats.

Sam had seen that look before—only it had been from Marcy, and it had been aimed at him. It hadn't ended well _at all_.

He should probably step between Hannah and the old ladies—but he liked all his parts where they were. Besides, if somebody was going to take them down a notch, technically, he was a visitor. Hannah wasn't. She could get away with a lot more.

He edged back, farther into the meager shelter of the pillar.

"You sorry bitches need to shut the _fuck_ up before I take offense to the hateful crap you're spewing," Hannah snarled. "Especially _you_." That came with a finger at Colorblind. "I know exactly what kind of useless fuck your goddamned husband was, and you've got _no place at all_ to be talking shit about Dean! He could be _brain-dead_ and be a better parent than either one of you ever had a _chance_ of being!"

"This is the house of God!" Colorblind sniffed.

Hannah's eyes narrowed dangerously, but before Sam could move, she had Colorblind by the collar and was dragging her across the room. "God?" she shouted, giving the woman a shove at the Holy Family. "You mean _this_ God?" She jabbed a finger towards the statue. "Jesus? Jesus who was raised by a man who _wasn't his father?_ You know, fucking _SAINT JOSEPH?_ "

_Oh, Lord, she's going to kill somebody._ Sam shoved the camera into a pocket and started for Hannah—only to be stopped by Third's outstretched arm. He hadn't even seen Third come out of the sanctuary. "She's going to—"

"Those two broads are tougher than they look," Third said placidly. "Also, they've been earning this beatdown since Maggie's baptism."

"Maggie was eleven—"

"Maggie converted. She had to do a kiddie version of RCIA, which meant she was baptized at Easter Vigil with the others. Those two were observed making impolite remarks about the fact that the family was here, and that Maggie had been adopted, and more than a few rude things about how much space people in wheelchairs take up. Firth thought it was moderately amusing, but you do not want to know the kind of acrobatics we had to engage in to keep Hannah and Dean from finding out about _those_."

"Why—"

"What Firth finds funny generally puts murder on Hannah's mind." Sam's confusion must have shown, because Third added, "Firth has more of my temper and less of their mother's, which means—"

"Less likely to eviscerate people?"

"Exactly."

" _Don't give me that shit!_ " Hannah shouted, sending the old, the young, and the Knights of Columbus alike scurrying for shelter. A few curious heads poked out of the sanctuary, but quickly ducked back in, presumably to pray for Hannah's victims. "I've met serial killers who are more pro-life than you two bitches, no matter how many times you go to Raleigh to whine about the precious fetuses! My nieces and nephews are a _thousand fucking times_ more stable than any one of the spoiled egomaniacs you call grandchildren, and actually have fucking _ethics_ to go along with _their_ money! You call them trash again, or say _anything_ else about Firth or Dean, and _you'll_ be using a wheelchair the rest of your miserable fucking life! _And that's if I'm in a good mood!_ "

Colorblind tried desperately to stammer something.

Hannah wasn't having it. "And while you're at it, keep your filthy lying tongue off Marcy and Dean's marriage! Their marriage is ten times stronger than anything the two of you ever managed, and neither one of _them_ ever went running around with a deacon behind his wife's back!" Purple's face went through an interesting range of colors, from nearly matching her sweater to vampire white. "And if you really _want_ to hear about their sex life, I'm sure Dean will oblige!"

That got scattered laughter, likely from the people who had actually met Dean. Purple and Colorblind, recognizing that they were outnumbered, took advantage of the momentary lapse in screaming to run for the door. Hannah stood there, fists clenched, clearly debating whether or not she should go after them—

And then the whole crowd started applauding, and one of the kids brought her a doughnut.

"Well, that was entertaining. Ananda's ready for her Uncle Sammy pictures now," Third added, as if they hadn't just witnessed epic misbehavior in a church vestibule.

"When isn't she?" Sam muttered, earning himself a laugh. Hannah had accepted the doughnut, but stalked off down one of the halls towards the classrooms, probably to calm down. Or kick something. "Is Hannah—"

"Oh, she'll be fine. They're the idiots who said it in front of Hannah. The rest of them have manners."

"Hannah doesn't?"

"Well.... Hannah has perfectly fine manners so long as you don't mess with her family." Third sighed. "It's supposed to be the _oldest_ that's super-protective, and Jenn can be, in a quiet kind of way, but— I don't know if it was the poltergeists or what, but Hannah is absolutely _rabid_ on the subject."

Sam blinked. Third was right, that was usually a trait of the oldest child, not the youngest. Look at him and Dean. But Hannah had been isolated so much, so young, and with what the poltergeists had done to Firth and Marcy—maybe that _had_ had some effect. "Did you— I mean, wasn't there somebody—"

"It's hard enough to find a doctor who believes in poltergeists and is willing to make house calls. Finding a _shrink?_ Impossible. I was hoping when Dean got her out, maybe she'd relax a little, but instead—" Third sighed. "That's the way it goes, sometimes. One day she's your little girl, and the next, she's a prickly concrete shell over a gooey trauma center." Sam blinked. "And me without a sledgehammer. I guess I'll have to leave that to her husband."

"Husband?" Sam didn't laugh. Barely. Hannah didn't strike him as the marrying type.

"A man can hope. Come on, before Ananda takes apart the tabernacle. And whatever you do, don't mention that—" Third indicated the old ladies' exit door with a jerk of his head "—to Dean, or we'll be paying to rebuild the whole place."

Sam had a sudden mental picture of Dean's reaction to anybody saying things like that about his kids, and he shuddered.


End file.
